AN OPEN LETTER TO BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
front row (though I did sit in the fourth row at Glassboro State College and got to shake hands with Max when he was doing his book tour....) If you tour for another 20, I'll be there, but to see me you gotta look hard.
It was also discouraging to see that some of the chosen few, some who are lucky enough to have access to backstage passes, were selling that honor as well. Some of them soothed their guilty consciences by donating a portion of the proceeds to charity, but let's not pretend this was a philanthropic venture. Once again money wins out over sincerity, admiration, and even, in this case, honesty.
I'm reminded of one time when I stood in line for tickets during the "Born in the USA" tour. Demand was rampant, and we stood in line for days to assure that we had tickets in our hands. We even had to sleep under tractor trailers to avoid being soaked out in the rain one night (and, yes, it was fun...kinda). Still, our little "community" (and yes, that's what we became in those moments, binding by the wail at the end of "Jungleland" while we slept on the streets of Philadelphia) was outraged as, moments before tickets went on sale, a red Ferrari rode up, two strapping college kids got out and were escorted to the front of the line (by security, no less) to purchase tickets while we watched, dumbfounded.
Sure, when showtime came, that incident was forgotten in the magic of the night. However, in the light of day, it's just another reminder of that there's a meanness in this world.
Okay, sorry for all the paraphrasing. I still believe in the promised land....but I know that, for me, it may never be closer than Section 210, Row 24.
Well, maybe someday. What are we without hope in our hearts?
Thanks for listening. See you in the swamps...
Your friend, Mary
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